Besides, even if he failed to perfect the reactor technology, there was still another option.
The Goro-Goro Fruit.
Teach could simply use it to charge the Ark directly.
At that point, everything suddenly made sense.
No wonder Enel had been able to make the Ark Maxim fly freely through the skies, while the people of Birka could do nothing about it. Before the restoration of reactor technology, the Ark was practically a personal spacecraft designed exclusively for a Rumble-Rumble Fruit user.
As for replacing electricity with other energy sources, Teach did not seriously consider it. Steam power could theoretically work, especially with the Steam-Steam Fruit, but steam's energy conversion efficiency was far inferior to electricity. It was not even close.
"So the Ark has already been built," Teach said, looking at the hypnotized god. "It's just missing the final step."
"That's correct," the god replied blankly.
Despite his dulled expression, a faint excitement surfaced in his voice. This was the lifelong obsession of countless generations of Birkan gods. Even he could not escape it.
"It's not far from Birka," the god continued. "Hidden within the perpetual clouds. The Ark is concealed there. No one will discover it."
Teach immediately expanded his Observation Haki.
This was an area he had not investigated carefully before. His earlier scans had been cursory. Now, with deliberate focus, he searched again.
And he found it.
An area where the clouds were unnaturally thick.
Within them, Teach sensed something vast.
Colossal was not enough to describe it.
Even from this distance, the sheer scale of the Ark made Teach pause.
Seeing that Teach had stopped questioning, the god began speaking again on his own.
"Each generation of gods has preserved a complete historical record and inheritance."
"Maxim represents our obsession with returning home. Before we left our home planet, a prophet foresaw a war that would engulf the entire world. That war would last nearly three hundred years."
"War destroys civilization."
"So the prophet entrusted all recorded history and part of our technology to our ancestors. He ordered the construction of a giant Ark so we could escape the war."
"Since then, it has been named Maxim."
"Technology can be recreated. History cannot."
"For thousands of years, we preserved the spark of our civilization and lived in isolation at the Cloud Sky Summit, refusing assimilation into this world."
"But apart from Birka, many of our people fell into this world and forgot their mission."
He paused, then added quietly, as if recalling something distant.
"There was another Ark. Its name was Noah."
"It symbolized rebirth and salvation."
"That Ark went to the Blue Sea with another group of our kin. It is now lost. Most likely destroyed."
Teach's pupils contracted.
Noah.
He knew it.
Not only its existence, but its location.
Fish-Man Island. Ten thousand meters beneath the sea.
So that was it.
The Sky People had split into two factions. One remained in the sky. The other descended to the sea.
And the group that descended must have been the ones who later controlled Uranus.
"Then the group that went to the Blue Sea," Teach said slowly, "did they bring weapons capable of destroying islands?"
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
Redyat stiffened beside him, then leaned forward slightly, anticipation visible even on his normally restrained face.
They had long suspected that Uranus originated from the Sky People.
The god nodded.
"Of course they did."
"It was called the Heavenly Orbital Cannon."
"It can destroy not only islands, but continents."
"This weapon was used once in the Blue Sea nearly eight hundred years ago."
Eight hundred years.
Another truth buried in the Void Century.
Someone had wielded Uranus. Almost certainly a predecessor of the World Government.
And their enemy had been the Great Kingdom.
"Even on our home planet," the god continued, "the Heavenly Orbital Cannon was an extremely precious strategic weapon."
"Only one was brought here."
"Most of the others were controlled by rival factions, and our departure was hasty."
"The weapon requires enormous energy. After a single shot, it takes years to recover even with external energy replenishment."
"In the Blue Sea, without proper replenishment, one shot requires decades, possibly a century, to recharge."
"It does have an autonomous absorption system. It draws special energy from space and converts it slowly."
"It was never meant to be fired often. It was a deterrent."
Teach immediately understood.
That was why the World Government never used Uranus unless absolutely necessary.
Like a nuclear weapon.
Unused, yet indispensable.
"Aren't energy reactors an option?" Teach asked. "That would solve the recharge issue."
"No," the god replied. "The reactor is too large to install."
"The Heavenly Orbital Cannon itself is relatively small."
"Our ancestors attempted miniaturization, but the reactor's output interfered with targeting precision."
"The weapon is designed for extreme long-range strikes. Even a slight loss of accuracy would cause catastrophic errors."
Redyat spoke up. "What does the Heavenly Orbital Cannon look like?"
"We know," the god said, his expression tinged with resentment. "Our records include detailed schematics."
"It exists in space. If it truly remains on this planet, it travels along a fixed orbit."
"It disguises itself as a meteor."
"The true core is hidden within."
"Only when activated does its power reveal itself."
Teach nodded.
A satellite.
Exactly as he had suspected.
"So how is it controlled?"
"Each Heavenly Orbital Cannon has a single authorization," the god answered. "Linked directly to the controller's mind."
"The controller only needs to think."
"The cannon constantly observes the world, analyzes coordinates, and locks onto the target."
"Once activated, it cannot be stopped."
"This is also its flaw."
Teach and the others instinctively looked up at the sky.
A weapon always above their heads.
Watching.
Waiting.
Teach asked the final question.
"What is its destructive range?"
"That depends on output settings," the god replied. "The minimum direct strike area is ten square kilometers."
"The maximum is ten thousand square kilometers."
The room fell silent.
Teach's expression finally shifted.
Alabasta alone spanned over 130,000 square kilometers.
Saint Louis Island, his future target, covered 30,000 square kilometers.
At maximum output, Uranus could erase a third of it in a single strike.
That was only the direct impact zone.
Collateral destruction would finish the rest.
Power dispersed across a wide range might not kill Teach himself, but it would annihilate everything he had built.
And the World Government would never waste such a weapon on low output if they truly wanted him dead.
Unless he possessed a space-type ability, escape would be impossible.
Even his Darkness Fruit had limits.
He could not absorb something of that scale, not yet.
Their expressions were grim.
The probability of the World Government using Uranus against them was low, but the threat itself was absolute.
As long as Uranus existed outside their control, it was unacceptable.
Teach exchanged a glance with Redyat.
Killing intent flickered in both their eyes.
Uranus had to be destroyed.
Controlling it was impossible. Its authority belonged to Imu.
But destruction?
That was another matter.
Poseidon ruled the sea.
Uranus ruled the sky.
Pluton ruled the land.
Ancient Weapons were feared for a reason.
And Teach would not allow one to hang over his head.
Not ever.